Blake: “I remember when I was just a dog. A real clean whistle for sure."
Since the announcement it has been a walk down memory lane. Blake holds his twin boys in each of his arms, he has been on a kick of never letting them down when he happens to be home. People attack him left and right anymore like a really bad pun on a sitcom. Still there is a beauty in the way things work out.
Blake: “Finn ain’t gonna be like that. That dude is going to look me right in the eyes, just like Josie did. Only thing is there isn’t that attachment like with her. You boys feel me? There are people out there that only want to win, I can see he is a man like that. I remember that age… I was always alone only that voice in my head kept me going. It became an obsession.”
He stops and smirks because his math might be wrong but the other pair of twins he fathers came around that time. Thinking of his ex-wife, thinking of where everything started. How the devil ripped his heart and soul right out of him. Quietly he breathes out a list of accomplishments.
Blake: “4x WWH TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 3x WWH ECW World Heavyweight Champion, 3x WWH Undisputed Champion, stay with me boys. I have a point. 2006 I really thought I was something. I wasn’t going to wrestle for the circus anymore. I wasn’t going to shovel horseshit in my spare time to get the money to have costumes made up. There is a lot of dark tales out there that your ears are still to young to hear, but needless to say that was the year I was going to forget all of it. I won’t say his name, that isn’t going to be your first words. He said I would never fight the top champion, he claimed a lot of things. Look where I am at though? Opening up Lights Out fighting the WWH World Heavyweight champion. Some people didn’t think I could become anything once I left that company, in fact they just erased me from existence. Funny how big wrestling companies can do that. Still some people remember, they try and forget. To bury to hell that was given and received.”
He puts the boys in their bassinets and holds his hand on his chin as it actually does help him think. For them there future is beautiful, dreams that have passed him by are still ahead for them.
Blake: “I don’t want to put the breaks on in this one. I want to drive it home that I really have became my own man. The championship I hold is mine it doesn’t belong to any booker, to any CEO, a president it is my title. Maybe this is fate trying to mock me, or perhaps giving me a test? Either way it is something I can’t refuse to give into. I could become too aggressive, too competitive, I could forget all about honor if I let myself. How would that be fair on Finn?”
How would it not be fair on him? Blake looks to Dorian’s mask. Sitting on the pedestal in a glass box. The mask it not what it used to be the stitches keeping it stapled together. The mouth part not completely gone. Blake seems to think it reminds him of his heart and soul after he competed in several places each one telling him he just wasn’t good enough.
Mary-Jane: "Sweetheart what are you still doing here won't you be late for your flight?"
His wife's words break his concentration he looks down at the sleeping babies and then over at her.
Blake: “You're right. I've came too far to squander this opportunity now."
Blake leaves his home, his wife, children, everything he has built without the help of his first big break. The sands of a beach are calling him just one last thing he needs to take care of before Lights Out.
Blake: “Twelve years. That is how long it has been since I made my debut for the big time. Always clawing trying to climb up that ladder, trying to grab that brass ring. There is where I first learned the mantra I live by now that it is a dog eat dog world. For some reason I thought it would be different then childhood. I imagined this big wide world where you could just BAM.... become somebody. Boy was I wrong. Awhile back, for XWA I fought Emery Layton and that was because she thought she'd worked so hard to get to where she was and I warned her she wasn't even close to where she wanted to be. I know you ignored me Emery, don't try and deny that you did. Now that Crown of the King Cobra is all you have. The GWP World Heavyweight title only took me one day to win, but it was a journey of twenty-five years to get that opportunity. Almost like Christmas morning, I find myself another gift courtesy Union Battleground. A ghost of my past seemly here represented in the modern era is standing across from me. I keep wondering does he feel it? Does that predator inside of him realize he is against another? Surely her does, no man nor woman could hold a World heavyweight championship and not have that type of awareness. Finn he's a champion, I'm a champion. Two Champions opening up lights out. I keep playing it back in my head over and over again what was the booker thinking putting us to at the start of the show? The competitors, at least on my end the emotion. Fans feel that type of investment when we step between the ropes, by the time Finn and I are done with them what will be left for the others. Are both of us that greedy? Perhaps it is just me? Will the crowd survive even long enough to have anything left for the actual main event. What a main event too, Emery Layton and The Bullet King Alex Kincaid. Please don't get me wrong I am excited about everything in Union Battleground. Would I have any other place to display my prized accomplishment. People today don't take their championships seriously. This week will be different, I fought my ass off in some of the lowest places imaginable to win this gwp world heavyweight championship. True deep down I knew Josie wouldn't hurt me and I wore a cup unlike some rookie dynamos. One televised win and making headlines, I will be damned! I just wasn't going to get over it till I defended the title against her. The desire to be better just wouldn’t go away. The list just keep racking up and getting checked off the more days that go by. Now a match some people might have thought would never happen. Finn, that title you hold doesn't just represent to me that you are one of if not the best in the world. That title represents all the people in my life that told me I am a waste of flesh, that my life doesn't matter. That title represents people that took my history and just erased it like I was dead. Right now I speaking purely from the heart. This is a demon that has haunted me for twelve years, a chip on my should I have carried with me that only two men know about. Lights out is going to give me the chance I have busted my balls to get, I am going one on one with the wwh world heavyweight champion. From some things I hear perhaps the best they have ever had. This is not for his title or my title, this is about competition. I haven't just sat in a basement and jerked it these last twelve years I have been evolving getting better finding my heart again. This lights out I am gonna redeem that 26 year old snot nosed shit that I used to be and I am going to show everyone watching and even my opponent just why little Blake Archer grew up to become a king."
He leans across the counter to talk to the mail clerk.
Blake: “Yes, I want this overnight delivery please. Just sending an old friend a ticket to the show."
Post by Finn Whelan on May 28, 2018 21:13:06 GMT -5
EUTHANASIA "No one's hanging on our words tonight -- don't you get it?"
CROWN THE EMPIRE
•••••
Dogs barking in the distance frames the sound of the area as the camera kicks on. The building visible in the frame is a shorter, smaller one very unlike the tall monoliths that the United States has, but it serves its purpose. It is surrounded by a tall chain-link fence that has green strips interwoven into the links, and along the bottom concrete panel are several blue pawprints. Hanging like posters along the links also are silhouettes of a dog and a cat, and Spanish words, “No al maltrato de animale”. No to animal abuse.
A rental car, an old 97’ Saturn, rolls into the screen, parking on the side street out front of the building. The engine is cut, and then after a moment, the door swings open. Dressed in his typical emo attire, combat boots and all, Finn Whelan steps out of the vehicle and slams the door shut. He lifts his sunglasses, and he looks through squinted eyes at the building, surveying it with minimal interest.
On the opposite side of the car, the door slams, and Union Battleground’s newest female competitor appears in the frame. She, too, wears dark clothing and a pair of sunglasses. There is a slight breeze that flutters through the air, lifting her hair as she looks around just the same, walking around the vehicle to stand in front of it.
“Let’s get to it.” Elena shoves her hands into her pockets, surveying her brother as he looks over at her, replacing her sunglasses. She gives him a smile, but it’s one that isn’t quite fully returned.
The Wolves of Gheimhridh, or so they title themselves at the promotion they both hold championships in, head into the little building, and the sound of the dogs raucous barking gets louder. The lady at the desk, wearing medical scrubs with cats all over them, looks up nicely at them.
“Bienvenido a la sociedad humana. ¿Qué podemos ayudarlo con señor?”
“Uhhh . . . parlez-vous Anglais?” Finn questions, and Elena lets out a snort. “Oh fuck, that was French . . . ¿Habla usted Inglés?”
“Si.” The woman smiles softly and looks at Finn, rising to her feet. “What can I help you with?”
Finn places his elbow on the counter and leans towards her, lifting his sunglasses upwards and setting them on top of his head. “I’d like to talk to you about euthanasia.”
•••••
"The King of the Canines”, eh?
In order to be that, I feel like you’d have to be razor sharp and intelligent to reach such an accolade. But I wanna pose a question: why would you want to be? Across the world, little girls run home and pick up their ickle puppy dogs and hug them while the dog spreads its slobbery goodness all over her cheek. They represent companionship, protection, and loyalty. When you see a canine, you think a buddy. Tell me Archer, are you a buddy?
It didn’t go as planned last week, and I’ll be the first to admit it. Stanton got the upperhand -- but look how many fucks I give about that. It doesn’t end the world to lose a match, and it only forces me to fight harder the next time. It’s an unfortunate situation for you, Archer, because you get to be on the receiving end of my ire. This doesn’t change, however, with my wins nor my losses. I am always pushing, always rising, always taking the next step that I need to do.
Do you do that? Do you still push for the goal, no matter the cost? Do you still see something at the end of the tunnel that you want so badly? I feel like you veterans...you come into these companies and try to claim that you’re still ready to go the mile, kick everyone in the teeth. You’ve been doing this for twenty-three years, and some thirty-something fucking accolades later, you act like you’re the King, but...you’re not. None of us are. We get to sit under people like Nemesis, who pulls his strings and keeps his crown only because of the sycophants who follow him. You are not Kimitsu Zombie, who has an iron hold on her rise to stardom here in Union, but also in Four Corners. You’re not Emery Layton. You’re not Viddus Morta and Aiden Deimos.
You’re just a lone pup in the Battleground.
What have you amounted to here? Because I have seen nothing that makes me want to praise your name. You can come at me with all your accolades, what you’ve done, but that’s all in the past, and I don’t honestly give a crap about it. What have you done here? What have you done now to make me think of you as anything more than a washed up veteran. A few matches with Trixie. A few wins glorified over some other has beens...between you and Chase, I’m not sure which one is worse.
You’re not an innovator, and that’s what will cost you this match. You look for the opening you can, because you’ve done it so many times, and you expect things to happen because you’ve seen it before over and over. Crap wrestling begets crap actions and understanding I’m not going to talk championships or accolades — I’m just going to place a cold hard fact: I’m better than you.
Maybe I’m overshooting here, but here’s the difference. I’m innovative. Yeah I lack the size and weight you have, and maybe I’m less technical, but I’ve learned my way about that ring. I know maneuvers that you don’t, I create openings when there were none before. Face it, Archer. Just like Vachon, just like virtually everyone in this company so far, I’ve risen above. I’ve conquered. And I will continue to do so.
I am not respectful. I am not going to suck dick just to prove I can be better. I am wolf, as I have been from the moment I stepped into this company, and until the moment I step out. And the wolf does not stop until your throat has been severed from your body.
At this point, I’m firing mercy shots. You know what they do in shelters, Archer, when an animal is past its prime, no longer adoptable? They euthanize them. They inject them with a shot and they put them to sleep, because everyone in the vicinity knows there’s not much time left for them to exist. It’s a mercy kill, and it’s done every day.
On Lights Out 24, I’ll deliver your euthanasia. Your mercy shot.
You’re welcome.
•••••
“We are a no-kill shelter, sir.” The woman replied to Finn as she looked at him, her eyes confused. Elena, next to him, leaned forward on her arms as she crossed them upon the counter. “We do not use that tactic.”
“What if it’s an old ass dog that needs to be put down?”
“Excuse me?”
“What my brother is trying to say in a much less eloquent tone,” Elena popped in, cocking her head to the side, “or question perhaps, is what happens when no one adopts the dog and they are much older. Surely, it costs more and more for the shelter to help ailing, senior dogs.”
“Of...course.” She nodded. Inwardly, she was probably wondering why these two strange-looking individuals were even here. Stupid Americans.
“Then by this logic, it would be best if the animal were put down?”
“Not always.” The shelter-secretary shook her head. “There are always some older animals that show resilliency, that fight until the very end. Those are the times that we hope all of our perros reach. Old age, a family, loyal to their owners until they live out their days.”
Finn smirks a little, and pushes himself off the counter. “So let me get this straight. You wouldn’t kill an older one? What if it’s way past its prime? What if it’s moving slower, its limbs are starting to deteriorate? Would you let it continue its life in pain?”
“Well, no . . . it would be not fair to the dog.”
Elena exchanges a glance with Finn, and both find a smirk rise up on their faces.
“So in the event an old dog needs to be put out of its misery?”
“We would give the best send off possible.”
Finn taps the counter with a hand twice, before pushing off it and looking at Elena. “I’ve got all I need.”
